i am weak. i will only grow stronger, but right now i feel weak. i can't think straight, and therefore my body threatens to succumb to gravity and let me rot here until my skin takes root and melds into the cloth. i will remain here for a hundred years and there will be photographs of my being with thick ivy grown all over. i will be a ruin.

there were times when i'd wondered why i fell for you, and i'd still come up with some reason.

today was the day i asked that question for the umpteenth time, and received no response. just a shrug of the mental shoulders. even my heart couldn't meet my gaze; it kept flitting its eyes back and forth and grimacing slightly.

when there is hope with this release, when i am free, nearly free, why am i not rejoicing?